


Essential

by notlucy



Series: The Brownstone in Brooklyn [6]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Play, Anxiety Attacks, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Daddy!Steve, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Little!Bucky - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Mummy!Peggy, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Non-Sexual Age Play, Peggy Carter Lives, Stuffed Toys, Thumb-sucking, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/pseuds/notlucy
Summary: Bucky was having a good day. Emphasis on was.





	Essential

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crockzilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/gifts).



Bucky’s _worst day_ didn’t start out so bad at all. Running with Steve in the morning, breakfast with Peggy, therapy with Dr. Z. All in all, a fairly normal Tuesday.

And, to be fair to this particular worst day, it wasn’t his worst day _ever_. It was just his worst day in six months, which was probably something Dr. P would say he ought to celebrate, and Dr. Z would say he should journal about.

The thing about this particular worst day, though, was that the precipitating event came out of nowhere, blindsiding Bucky and sending him spiraling in public, in a way that he was sure embarrassed Steve and Peggy, even if they wouldn’t say so, and left him feeling helpless and angry with himself.

So, what happened was this: Bucky, Steve, and Peggy were going to have lunch with Natasha at a nice restaurant in midtown. Because sometimes it was pleasant to have lunch together in the city. Like adults. Like normal people. Which they were. They were very, very normal, and they could behave normally in public. Bucky was very proud of that fact, considering.

He was going to meet them at the telephone company, which was actually just the building where Peggy worked. It had nothing to do with phones, at all, but she thought it was a funny joke, and neither Steve nor Bucky was going to tell her they didn’t understand it.

Getting through security at Peggy’s building had been an ordeal the first few times he’d visited when Bucky still coped by strapping knives to various parts of his body, and they’d had to work on Maybe Not Always With the Knives, Pal. But now, he was pretty god damn good at leaving them behind.

So he waved to the two security guys who pretended to look like clueless guards (but Bucky knew were trained agents) before taking the elevator up to Peggy’s floor. She had her own office because she was Very Important. (Steve was important, too, but they didn’t let him have an office. Bucky was pretty sure it was because he’d broken the last one.) Letting himself in, he found her on the phone and blew her a kiss before sinking down onto her very nice leather couch. (Being Very Important meant you got to have leather couches in your office.)

Peggy was talking about something to do with agents in the field, which got Bucky thinking. He’d entertained vague notions of going back into the field at some point, not necessarily because he wanted to, but because it seemed like The Right Thing To Do. His therapists insisted he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, but it was easy to confuse what he wanted with what other people expected. It was mostly his confusion, and the fact he still had bad days, that kept him from committing to anything much.

Steve arrived while Peggy was still talking, looking pleased to see Bucky as he settled in on the couch alongside him. It took exactly ten seconds for them to get into a fight that involved pinching, mostly for Peggy’s benefit. She glared at them, covering the mouthpiece of the phone. “Stop it.”

They tried.

Trying was important. Succeeding was better, but hey, Peggy was going to be madder at Steve than she was at him. Because she let him get away with pretty much everything. Plus, Natasha showed up before Peggy finished the call, which meant Peggy was less likely to yell at Steve in public. (Though, it was just _less_ likely. It didn’t completely negate the possibility.)

“Hey, murder raccoon,” Nat greeted, flopping down between him and Steve on the couch.

“Comrade,” Bucky acknowledged with a smirk, because gallows humor was _healthy_ , even if the way he and Nat talked to each other horrified Steve. (Which, honestly, was half the reason they did it).

“Steve,” she said, mock-saluting before kicking her feet up onto his lap. Steve, Bucky, and Peggy might have been the ones in a relationship, but Natasha never had trouble being tactile with them. Bucky sort of figured that was her own coping mechanism.

“Natasha,” Steve replied, just as Peggy (finally) hung up.

“Right, if you could all stop making so much bloody noise…” she huffed, though he could tell she wasn’t actually angry. Especially when she smiled, turning her attention to Natasha. “Hello, you.”

(Bucky was pretty sure Peggy wouldn’t leave them both for Nat. But he wasn’t one hundred _percent_ sure.)

(Especially when Nat looked at her like _that_. Like she wanted to eat her up. Bucky didn’t have the craziest libido anymore, though things in that area were improving with time, but the thought of Peg and Nat taking a tumble? It was enough to get anyone’s blood running a little hotter.)

“Hi, Peg,” Steve said, pointedly.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she returned, giving him a very coy smile. “Are we ready? I’ve made reservations at the place you recommended, Natasha.”

They were ready. Or, at least, Bucky had been ready. Until they stepped out into the sea of partially-walled cubicles known as an “open office” and the overwhelming smell of peppermint hit him like a punch in the gut.

The scent triggered an immediate panic, and he dropped, crouching low to the ground and covering his head. He couldn’t say what or why, only that there was a crushing sense of dread and terror. The need to protect himself from _something_ (everything?) was overwhelming.

So he did the only thing he could do in that situation: he mewled out a plaintive ‘Daddy’ in front of God and everyone else on Peggy’s team.

It all happened pretty fast after that. Steve’s arms were around him, ushering him back into Peggy’s office and closing the door. (The last thing he heard before the door shut was Natasha’s Scariest Voice saying, “who, exactly, is using essential oils in here?”)

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d aged down so fast. At four, he didn’t care about the particulars, though. Daddy lowered him back to the couch and made a move as if to stand up. Bucky didn’t want him to go, so he clung, fingers digging hard into Daddy’s skin. To his credit, Daddy only let out a little hiss of pain, which was remarkable considering five of those fingers were enhanced, and the other five were metal.

“Hey, hey, Buck,” he soothed, sitting down and pulling Bucky in tight to his chest. He couldn’t do much with his arms, considering Bucky had them in a tight grip, but he did attempt to rub his side. “It’s alright, kiddo. You’re here, you’re with us. You’re safe.”

He knew that. He knew he was in the room with Mummy and Daddy and that he was _fine,_ but at the same time, he didn’t. At the _same time_ , he was in a dark room, in a dark place, with a dark man who smelled like _peppermint_.

“Don’t want to, don’t want to…” he whined, headbutting Daddy’s jaw as he panicked. (And if Daddy hadn’t been Daddy, Bucky might have broken it. As it was, he only winced and took in another sharp breath.)

“Oh, Steve…” Mummy’s voice flooded his senses. She sounded worried. Bucky knew because she was coming closer.

“Peg, I got him, just stay back.”

He was only saying that because Bucky was bad, and did bad things, and might hurt her if she got too close.

That ripped a sob out of him, because he wanted his Mummy, too. He wanted to be _there_ with them instead of trapped in his awful brain. Something ripped - Daddy’s shirt? - and he let out a plaintive sound of confusion because maybe Daddy wasn’t Daddy at all. Maybe it had all been a dream, and they were going to take him away again.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Mummy snapped, and something in the tone of her voice _hurt_ , but it brought him back a little because nobody else in the world sounded like Mummy when Daddy said something she didn’t like.

“Pal, you’re fine,” Daddy said, trying again to calm him down. “Look...you’re with us. Bucky, just open your eyes, honey, look around. It’s me. I’m here. I’m real.”

“Darling, please don’t be frightened.” That was Mummy. Her voice didn’t hurt as much that time. Still, he shuddered, another sob wracking his frame. “We just want to help you,” she continued. “What if we…” She trailed off, an ‘aha’ escaping her. Bucky heard her move away, and he didn’t know what she was doing, but he could still hear her, especially when she started humming.

“Oh, hey, look at that,” Daddy said, after a few more moments of soothing and crying, Bucky shaking apart against his chest. He sounded like he’d seen the most amazing thing in the world. Bucky, though still terrified, kind of wanted to see it, too. He cracked an eye open, looking around warily. Mummy was crouched about a foot away from the couch, a stuffed rabbit on her knee.

The way she’d positioned the rabbit made it look almost...inquisitive. And friendly. Bucky sniffed, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. (Daddy sighed in blessed relief when said hand released its vice grip on his bicep.)

“Whassat?” he asked, voice still cloudy with tears.

“It’s your bunny,” she said, as though it were the most logical answer in the world. Mummy _was_ a very logical person. “I was walking through a shop yesterday and I heard it calling out my name.”

“It did?”

“It certainly did. It told me it was meant to go home to someone named Bucky Barnes, and that it thought I knew you.”

That seemed...plausible, Bucky decided, as he reached out his hand and Mummy slid the bunny into his outstretched fingers. It was soft, and it really did have a very expressive face.

He pulled the toy against his chest, switching his grip on it to his metal hand, so he could stick the thumb of his real one in his mouth. He knew it was a _baby_ thing to do, and he wasn’t a baby, but it made him feel good. Everyone always told him he was allowed to do things that made him feel good.

Daddy shifted him a little, which made him whimper and cling again, whining until he was reassured with a low promise, “just getting you more comfortable, pal, not going anywhere.”

Bucky nodded, letting Daddy settle him on the couch before he looked up at Mummy beseechingly, a wordless invitation in his eyes. He didn’t really want to talk anymore. Sometimes not-talking was easier.

Mummy sat next to him, hesitant. Bucky hated that, so he immediately went for a hug. Not the same kind as with Daddy, though. Mummy was more fragile. Bucky knew that. He liked her smell, though. She would never, ever wear any perfume with peppermints.

“Oh, lovely cuddles,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Thank you, darling. Did bunny help?”

Bunny had helped. Bucky nodded, sighing contentedly when Steve’s hand started rubbing slow, easy circles on his back. His breath was still coming in little hitching gasps, but he’d calmed down considerably and was even a bit drowsy by the time Natasha opened the door to Peggy’s office.

If she was surprised by what she saw, she didn’t show it, choosing instead to close the door behind her and lean against the wall. “You guys know Mitch?”

Bucky was kind of checked out of the entire conversation, but he heard Peggy answer in the affirmative (“bloody _Mitch_ ”), while Nat picked at her nails.

“He’s not gonna bring essential oils to the office anymore. Good?”

Yes, Bucky decided. It was _very_ good.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

“Who, exactly, is using essential oils in here?”

Nobody answered, for a moment, unsure of what they’d just seen happen. (Everyone sort of _knew_ that Agent Carter was from the past, and she was dating Captain America and the Winter Soldier, who were also from the past. That was all standard operating procedure, really, when Norse gods and alien invaders were one’s bread and butter. However: watching the Winter Soldier curl into the fetal position and start crying in their office was a new one. And now, Agent Romanoff looked _pissed_.)

Eventually, a voice Natasha was sure was the Most Obnoxious Voice ever piped up.

“Uh, me?”

“Excellent,” she smiled, casually approaching the workstation of the douchebag in question, who didn’t seem very apologetic. “Hand it over.”

“Excuse me?”

“The essential oil. Hand it over.”

“I really don’t think…”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking a question...Mitch,” she confirmed, checking the nameplate on his cube. “This is for the health and sanity of everyone you work with.”

“But it’s medicinal. I get headaches.”

“Uh huh. Hand it over.”

“But…”

“Easy way or the hard way. You _do_ know who I am, yes?”

Two seconds later, Natasha had the bottle of peppermint oil in her hand.

“And the diffuser.”

“Now wait a minute…”

“Mitch, hey, guy, we _just_ went over this.”

“I paid for that.”

“You’ll get it back at the end of the school day. Or you can go home right now. I don’t actually care. But I can guarantee you that you doing this? Annoys everyone in a thirty-foot range. Because I think you’re kind of an idiot, Mitch. So I’m going to need your toys. You upset my friend. And I really, really don’t like it when people upset my friends.”

As it turned out, Mitch had some sick time to use up that afternoon. Bucky might have been the one to have an anxiety attack, Natasha reasoned, but every person in the office looked privately thrilled when that asshole left in a huff.

Some people had no sense of workplace etiquette.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This work may or may not have been inspired by something that happened to me at work. Unfortunately, I have no Steve or Peggy or Bunnies to comfort me, only the knowledge that people who bring smelly things into work are going to the Special Hell.
> 
> Thanks to [Crockzilla](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crockzilla) for encouraging me to write my angry feels. 
> 
> Chronologically, this takes place before "[Feelings are Tough](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11879418/chapters/26826075)" and after Crockzilla's lovely [Play Date](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11867439), which is set in the same universe.
> 
> Always happy to take suggestions for this 'verse!


End file.
